


Tea vs. Glitterguns

by Foodmoon



Series: Of Tea and Glitter Guns and Cats [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Antagonism, Gen, Glitter guns, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Tea, Water Guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 15:30:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13504434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foodmoon/pseuds/Foodmoon
Summary: In which Q comes home to an unwelcome guest.





	Tea vs. Glitterguns

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are mine.
> 
> For 221watson, because I definitely wasn't thinking about it until you mentioned it.

The first time Q comes home to find Bond sprawled on his bed like a giant cat, he squawks a little. He might even say he screams, if he was willing to admit to something so unmanly. Which Q isn’t. It isn’t torture, there definitely is no screaming involved. He’ll never admit otherwise.  
  
  
Bond maintains giant cat mode by cracking his eyes open just enough to reveal slits of blue, and staring at him unblinkingly.  
  
  
Q may or may not sound rather strangled as he demands, _“What are you doing here!?”_  
  
  
His cats join Bond in slitted staring. And since when do his cats like the infuriating agent well enough to sleep with him? He hasn’t even told his coworkers in Q branch that he has cats, so Bond most definitely should not have known about them, much less been friendly with them. And really? How does Bond know where he lives? It isn’t in his file. He’d seen to that. Only M knew, and there was no way she’d have shared that tidbit. Would she?  
  
  
“Sleeping.” Bond grumbles. “There’s tea in the kitchen.” And with that enigmatic piece of information his eyes close and he apparently goes back to sleep.  
  
  
Still shaking a little _(and who wouldn’t shake after coming home to find someone who is practically a stranger in their bed, Q would like to know?),_ he retreats and after a few deep breaths, goes to explore his kitchen.  
  
  
And yes, there is a brand new box of high quality, loose leaf Earl Grey sitting neatly on the counter beside his sink. Also, there’s an empty packet of cat treats in the bin, which explains why his cats, who normally hide from strangers, have cozied up to Bond like he’s their long lost brother. Little furry traitors. They’d be horrible spies.  
  
  
He checks the cat dishes, but they’ve obviously been cleaned and refilled. Which, okay, he has to give Bond points for that. Even if he is sleeping in Q’s bed despite having a perfectly fine and rather more upscale flat of his own. _**In his bed!**_ Why not on the couch? No, the couch would have been bad too. Just. Okay, the bed was far worse. Q didn’t appreciate close misses with heart attacks. Nope. Not one bit.  
  
  
Q finds things to do around the flat. Things that could have waited a few more days, or at least until he got some much needed sleep. But eventually, exhaustion drives him into his bedroom and he creeps into his own bed like a thief afraid of being caught. Or really, more like someone who knows that waking a spy with a penchant for blowing things up and killing people is likely to be painful or even fatal. The thing is? At this point, it’s a tossup between dying by uninvited spy or dying by well-earned exhaustion. And he’ll be damned if he’ll let the spy drive him out of his own bed to take refuge on the couch.  
  
  
The spy, after all, does not deserve the satisfaction. Not when he can’t obey to save his life and looks cocky when returning Q’s lovely, lovely tech in piles of scorched, melted, knifed, shot, _**bitten**_ remnants that are invariably unsalvageable. Not when he makes cutting remarks and stands as if he thinks Q is a predator who may try to ravage his virginal self in public.  
  
  
And, okay, yes, Q branch would probably watch in avid delight if such a thing did occur, because, let’s face it, techies who put in as many hours as they do have to get their excitement somehow. But, A. Bond is not virginal and hasn’t been for years. Q has visual and audio recordings from missions that prove that. He’s half convinced that Bond is some demon spawn who popped out fully grown and a womanizer as a bonus. He knows, after all, just how easy it is to create fake backgrounds, particularly if one has years to add evidence to them. And, B. Q is not, and never will be a threat to a man who can kill people with his bare hands, probably every instrument known to mankind, and possibly with his mind. Bond can almost certainly break Q with his non-dominant pinky, so the attitude is entirely unwarranted.  
  
  
So, no. The spy doesn’t deserve it, and Q will be damned if he gets it. Wonderful tea not withstanding. But he needs sleep. And he’ll yell at the spy tomorrow, when being startled out of a sound sleep is less likely to result in a strangled or otherwise maimed Q.  
  
  
Rosey murps at him, and stalks over to lay her furry grey self decadently over his chest, making him grunt. He sighs and lets her warmth and the soft brush of her fur lull him into the sleep that has been waiting to drag him down into its silent depths for the last few hours.  
  
  
Yes, he’ll yell at the spy tomorrow.  
  
  
And in the morning?  
  
  
Bond is gone without a trace except for the tea and empty cat treat baggie, and slightly mussed covers that smell faintly of Bond and cats. It’s infuriating.  
  
  
He fantasizes about sending the aggravating spy out on his next mission equipped with only a water gun. Or possibly one that shoots confetti. No, glitter. A glitter gun would be suitably vicious for all parties involved, he’s sure.  
  
  
In the end, it’s the tea that decides him against it. This time at least.  
  
  
It really is a lovely tea.

**Author's Note:**

> Formatting is still a mysterious beast.  
> Apparently the muse is in the mood. I'm refraining from inquiring as to why.  
> No need to tell me it's rough, I know.  
> Editing comments welcome, but please be gentle.  
> Apologies to any techies that feel maligned


End file.
